


Out of the Shadows and Into the Night

by tegary



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Post-Ragnarok, Rimming, Sibling Incest, little bit of lightning play?, ragnarok spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tegary/pseuds/tegary
Summary: “Unfortunately, no one ever paid any attention to the good I could do."Thor’s hand comes up, lightning fast, and cups around Loki’s own on his cheek. “They are now,” He says, somber, face so earnest that Loki has to look away. “I am.”





	Out of the Shadows and Into the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻/锤基nc17】并肩同行(温馨车一发完)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088355) by [Mary2333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary2333/pseuds/Mary2333)



> This has been festering in me for three days now. First published work, unbeta'd. It figures it would be these boys that would finally get me to publish some of my writing. Comments/critiques are very much appreciated!
> 
> Spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok. Seriously, go see it if you haven't already!

“Stay,” Thor whispers against Loki’s ear when he pulls him into a hug in Thor’s new quarters that night.

Loki does.

He settles down on the cot-bed that Thor’s quarters are equipped with, beckoning him over with a hand. It’s gratifying when Thor approaches without hesitation and sits opposite him, relaxing when Loki lays a hand on his shoulder and uses the other to begin crafting a healing mist that shimmers at his fingertips.

“Take a deep breath,” Loki urges, and Thor does, wincing only a bit when Loki begins to tend to the bloody eye socket that now stands empty like a mockery of a battle prize on his brother’s face.

“The eye patch suits you,” He murmurs softly as the torn skin begins to stitch itself back together.

“I think that was a compliment, so I’ll take it as such,” Thor says quietly, and lifts his remaining eye to meet Loki’s. Sky blue meets emerald and catches and holds for a moment before Loki looks away, something dangerously akin to sentiment trying to crawl up his throat.

“Yes, well,” He says around clearing his throat. “How does it feel?”

“I can’t feel anything,” Thor says, and adds, quickly, at the disquieted look appearing on Loki’s face, “It is wonderful. I had forgotten just how gifted you are at the healing arts.”

“I did learn from the best,” Loki sighs, drawing his thumb lightly along the dark scarring that now suffices for Thor’s eye socket. “Unfortunately, no one ever paid any attention to the _good_ I could do.”

Thor’s hand comes up, lightning fast, and cups around Loki’s own on his cheek. “They are now,” He says, somber, face so earnest that Loki has to look away. “I am.”

When Loki finally turns his face back, Thor is frighteningly close, and it causes the Trickster’s body to freeze in shock and uncertainty. He _hates_ the fact that Thor can do this to him, can rust his silvertongue with a look, throw him off kilter like no one ever has before. Thor’s words to him in the hangar elevator on Sakaar had sent him reeling, overcome with some unnamed emotion that laid heavy on his heart. _Had_ he wished to never see Thor again? Was that truly what he wanted? The questions themselves terrify Loki less than the fact that he has no answer to them.

It shouldn’t surprise Loki that Thor slips a hand to the back of his neck, tilting his head so he can slot his lips against Loki’s as he nears. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it does, and it sends Loki into a blind panic. Slippery as the snake he had once turned himself into, Loki ducks out of Thor’s grip and is off the bed and standing in the doorway before Thor can even protest.

“The socket should be fully healed, but be careful with it for a few days,” He blurts out, wincing at how breathless and inelegant he sounds. “Don’t be an oaf.” And he’s out the door before Thor can utter a word.

 

* * *

 

Loki remains in his own room for the next few days, emerging only to swipe food from the kitchens and sometimes take a walk down the long hall of windows around the ship’s perimeter. He’s always felt at home in the cosmos, the one thing that he reckons is even more of a mess than he is. It is a strange comfort to him, the knowledge that the stars and swirling galaxies are vast and unpredictable. Loki has spent many a night contemplating what it would be like to disappear into one of those massive whirlpools of light, never to be heard from again.

Thor is mostly busy with his people, taking time to talk to each one and reassure them of their safety. He shakes hands and tries to treat wounds to the best of his abilities and chases giggling children around the common area that suffices for a make-shift throne room. It’s a wonder to Loki that he ever believed Thor would be an incompetent ruler, but he supposes they have both grown in more ways than one quite recently.

Loki watches the goings-on from afar, carefully out of Thor’s sight, unsure of his ability to answer if Thor asks why he fled all those nights ago. Thor lets him have his space, though he had attempted to draw Loki into conversation a couple times when their paths had intercepted. Having time to recover his eloquence, Loki had smoothly talked his way out of each of them until Thor seemed to take the hint.

A soft sniffling sound brings Loki out of his reverie, and he realizes belatedly that it’s coming from a small child cradled in her mother’s arms. The girl can’t be more than five years old, with golden curls cascading down her back. She’s holding onto an obviously-broken arm as her mother tries to soothe her. Between the thousands of people on board and the severe lack of healers, it had taken days just to sort through those who needed immediate care. Hundreds still waited to be seen, including this poor child. Loki refuses to acknowledge that it’s the tugging at his (nonexistent!) heartstrings that causes him to step from his hiding place in the corner of the room and approach the two.

“May I?” He asks the mother softly as he squats down beside them, holding a hand out carefully. The woman looks him over with slightly narrowed eyes, appraising him. The galaxy seems to eke to a stop for a moment as Loki’s throat tightens, preparing to be turned down. _You’ve done too much ill,_ his own voice sneers in his mind. _No-one cares for the good you can do._

But, by some small miracle, the woman nods after a long moment, slowly passing the weeping child to Loki. He carefully settles her in his lap before drawing at his healing magic, the kind that comes from the warm place in his core that mother had shown him. His fingertips spark to life with aquamarine light, and the child quiets as she stares at it in wonder.

Carefully, touch as light as a feather, Loki passes his hands over the girl’s arm, watching as bones shift and broken skin mends. It is in moments like these where he feels the closest to Frigga, can almost smell the rose oil she would smooth through her hair at night. The magic she had taught him had been warm, full of light and life. It was only as Loki grew and soured to his place as the younger sibling that he began to seek out books that would turn him from a mage into a trickster. It is this aquamarine light that is the true color of his seiðr.

The child squeals with delight as she flexes her newly-healed arm, leaning up to wrap her little arms around Loki’s neck and give him a squeezing hug. Recovering from his surprise after a moment, Loki lets out a genuine chuckle and gives her a little pat on the back, graciously accepting the thanks from her overjoyed mother.

He only recognizes the other presence that has inserted itself into the moment when he feels a warm hand land on his shoulder, and Loki turns to meet the warm blue gaze of his brother, who has obviously witnessed the entirety of what just happened.

“They do,” Thor says softly. “I do.”

 

* * *

 

He follows Thor back to his quarters, and this time Thor murmurs “stay” against the bow of Loki’s lips. He acquiesces.

Kissing Thor is like standing in the middle of a storm, breathing in ozone and tasting electricity. Loki can feel the lightning play across his skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. While meeting with his brother like this has always been breathtaking, never before has it carried such a sense of _danger_. The air in the small room has become oppressive, charged with barely-restrained power.

 _"Thor,”_ Loki murmurs in warning against his mouth, but his brother only growls in response and presses closer, crowding Loki up against the wall and using his gasp to slip his tongue past his teeth. Callused hands catch Loki’s wrists and pin them together, lifting them over his head so Loki has to press onto his toes to compensate. He’s off-kilter again, Thor has tipped his world askew, and Loki is unable to right himself.

In his haze, he misses the King of Asgard slipping his free hand up under Loki’s clothing until the scrape of a nail over his right nipple draws a startled moan out of him. In their fumblings as youth, Thor (along with Loki) had learned that Loki’s nipples were particularly sensitive, and Thor had exploited that knowledge many a time.

Loki’s soft little whimper when Thor sweeps over his nipple again earns him a breathy growl, and Thor abandons Loki’s chest and frees his trapped wrists in order to heft Loki up so the fairer god has to wrap his legs around Thor’s hips to steady himself. He presses Loki up against the wall and ruts against him once, twice, until they’re both mouthing pants against each other’s skin in need, before turning and tossing Loki onto the bed. The trickster bounces and tries to brace himself on his elbows to scowl at the rough treatment, but as soon as he meets Thor’s gaze, his breath leaves his chest in a rush.

The remaining eye is blazed white, electricity crackling from Thor’s skin intermittently, too fast for Loki to pinpoint where it originates. It is a _we-inspiring,_ the power Thor holds, and Loki marvels at it, quieted but also faintly uncertain. He’s been at the receiving end of Thor’s anger many a time, and he balks to think of what it will be like now that this long-held power has been awakened.

Thor seems to notice this and presses up over Loki slowly, bracing himself on his hands and knees over Loki’s prone form before he reaches for his brother’s hand. Thor softly cups it in his own before bringing it up to his face, resting right under the eye patch. Thor’s hand on his is light, and Loki knows Thor is placing trust in him, ceding control for a moment, so Loki takes. He carefully peels the eye patch away from the burnt socket, relieved to see that the skin there has healed well, no longer a bloody black color but closer to a dark pinkish tan. Electricity plays over Loki’s skin as he slides his hand along Thor’s features, along his bristled jaw and wide cheekbones up to his remaining eye, and it shutters closed as Loki draws a soft thumb over his light eyelashes. The skin of his eyelid is almost transparent against the stunning white of Thor’s eye, and Loki can see right through it to the raw power beneath.

A power, Loki realizes, which is _warm._ Rather than burning him, like Loki expected, it seems almost _playful_ , racing along his fingertips and down his arms in quick pulses that can’t last for more than a second. Almost entirely despite himself, Loki’s seiðr reaches out in response, twining itself in and around until Loki can’t tell where his being begins and Thor’s ends.

The kiss Thor gentles against Loki’s lips has his eyelashes fluttering like one of the maidens in the many plays Loki had witnessed during his charade as Odin. The meeting of their bodies again after the meeting of their essences sends Loki’s lips tingling, and the agreeable moan Thor sounds against his mouth must mean that Thor feels it, too. Loki doesn’t have time to ponder on what that intersection means before Thor is gasping “clothes” against the earlobe he has between his teeth. Loki decides this is the best idea his brother has had in centuries.

He can feel the electricity tenfold when their bare bodies press up against each other, and Loki jerks up into Thor’s chest with a whimper. His brother catches him, sliding his hands down to cup Loki’s rear and squeeze possessively, drawing a groan from them both.

“I’ve missed this,” Thor gruffs out, and Loki arches again, wrapping a leg around the back of Thor’s thighs.

“Then get on with it,” He hisses, and pulls up a quick lubrication spell to coat Thor’s fingers for good measure. Thor’s responding chuckle sends something warm twisting in Loki’s belly.

“Impatient little thing,” He teases, and Loki is about to complain about the use of ‘little’ when one broad finger slips inside of him.

Loki is a little...out of practice, in regards to being on the receiving end. In fact, Thor was the last person to be inside of him in this way. Loki had bedded his fair share of maidens, of course, and sucked a ridiculous amount of cock, but he had always shied away from letting _others_ inside of _him_. He had written it off as wanting to maintain the power in the relationship, but now that he’s here again, gasping and writhing against Thor’s finger as his brother coos dirty little praises at him, Loki’s not so sure.

“Still so tight,” Thor says lowly, the drag of his finger against Loki’s rim making the fairer god squirm. “There must be a way I can help with this, no?”

Being eaten out has always been _devastating_ for Loki, even more so when it’s Thor, with his rough beard scraping against the sensitive inside of Loki’s thighs and driving him nearly to tears every time. Before Loki had fallen, there had been a particular night where Loki had come thrice from sitting on Thor’s face, wrists bound behind him, sobbing and twisting against Thor’s tongue in his over-sensitive hole. The bastard had looked so _damned_ smug when Loki had admitted defeat, and then he had fucked Loki cross-eyed. They had laid in bed until the afternoon the day after, only leaving Loki’s quarters after Frigga had come knocking, scolding Loki for being so lazy and asking if he had seen his brother.

It’s really a wonder that they were never caught.

Thor wriggles his tongue inside Loki along with his finger, and Loki whines and arches up, fingers clutching at the short, dirty blond locks of Thor’s hair. Even though he likes this new look on his brother (it makes him look more regal), he does miss having something to hold on to in situations like this. A second finger soon joins the first, and Loki is veritably shaking within minutes, though that might be the electricity that seems to swim up from Thor’s fingers and into his very core.

“Thor,” He gasps out, “Fuck me.”

The ease of Thor’s cockhead against his hole makes Loki grip at the sheets with white knuckles, trying to force himself to relax and take it in. In the while he’s gone without Thor in his bed, he’s forgotten the certain…downsides that come with a well-endowed bedmate.

“Loki,” Thor rumbles, like thunder, and the god of mischief blinks up at him with hazy green eyes. “Loki,” he repeats, and takes Loki’s hands in his own, guiding them to his biceps and urging Loki to take hold. Then he’s pushing again, and Loki bears down in time, nails digging into Thor’s muscles.

They both gasp in unison when the head finally slips through the ring of muscles, and Loki doesn’t get much time to breathe before Thor is setting a quick pace, bringing their bodies together over and over with the sound of skin on skin. After a few thrusts, Thor rears back so he’s sitting on his heels and Loki is forced to follow, legs draped over the sides of Thor’s arms and back bowed as the position gives Thor more leverage for his thrusts.

Their pace turns hot and heavy quickly, white bursts of electricity and aquamarine seiðr chasing each other up and down their entwined bodies and playing over hyper-sensitive skin. Thor pulls at Loki’s hips to tilt them up a bit higher, and his next thrust hits the spot inside Loki that makes him see stars. The Trickster gasps and writhes, body clenching around Thor and pulling him deeper, and the atmosphere begins to crackle with impending lightning again.

With a shout that sounds like the crest of a storm, Thor bowls Loki back over onto his back and slides his hands up Loki’s arms to grip his wrists and pin them parallel to his ears. Then he begins _pistoning_ his hips, so quick and overwhelming that Loki can do naught but lay back and take it, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His orgasm takes him completely by surprise, but bowls him over, and Loki spills between them with a wounded cry of the King’s name. Thor follows close behind, eye blazing white and a deafening crack sounding as he shouts his release to the ceiling.

After he comes back to himself, Loki’s face crumples in confusion as he feels something wet landing on his face. Prying his eyes open, he scoffs in disbelief at what he finds: Thor has, in fact, created a miniature contained thunderstorm, which hovers over them in the cot. Thor also happens to be holding himself up on his elbows over Loki, scanning his face with his now-blue eye.

“You oaf,” Loki says, but he can’t stop a sliver of affection from tinting his voice warm. “Turn it off, I’m getting cold.” And he bats at the smattering of clouds, frowning deeper when he realizes they can’t be scattered.

Thor chuckles good-naturedly and seems to banish the clouds with a thought, leaving Loki to mutter a quick drying spell with a twist of his hand. When he looks back up, Thor is smiling at him with the most foolish enamored look on his face, and Loki’s mouth falls slack, throat going dry.

“Stay,” Thor murmurs again, thumb sliding along Loki’s lower lip in a soft caress.

Loki presses his lips against Thor’s thumb and gives him what he hopes is a genuine smile. He is still a man on the run, still hunted. Now, with what he’s taken, perhaps even more so. But he can’t bring himself to remind Thor of what Loki is, what he’s done, all the reasons why this is a bad idea. So, instead, he settles for pushing up, letting his arms wind around Thor’s neck as he brings their mouths together once more.

“Aye.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Don't Lose My Number" by Phil Collins
> 
> I swear this movie regressed me physically right back to 2010.
> 
> My personal blog is kyberring.tumblr.com. Come visit sometime!


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